If love is something one has to experience before knowing it,
Then I do not know what love is.
But if it is an observatory fact,
I think I know what love is.
I see the crowds around me,
How they fight and slap, bite and break;
I do not wish to become that crowd.
I am terrified of the future.
I see the couples, happy until second strike,
Where they go home sobbing apart:
It seems as if any seam stitched together
Can be just as easily torn.
But I also see the joy in their eyes,
The light that hasn't been taken,
And might never be;
What if they die before me, but they die happy?
I think I know what love is;
But I'm not yet sure if it was invented for me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem